Wanting Forever
by SnerkyOne
Summary: How does Mary react when Marshall finally makes his move?
1. Running Away

**Chapter 1**: Running Away

One in the morning, and there she was, sitting on the hood of her piece-of-shit car by the side of the highway, trying to figure out her next move. A few supposedly well-meaning guys had stopped to ask if she needed help, but the look on her face – along with the flash of the gun under her jacket – had sent them scrambling back to their cars, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Not that she particularly wanted to be left alone with her thoughts, given that her brain seemed hell-bent on replaying what had happened earlier at the courthouse. She'd been in the middle of a conversation with Dershowitz when Marshall had mumbled something about them having to go, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to the nearest stairwell. Before she'd had a chance to ask what the hell his problem was, he'd started kissing her and she'd momentarily lost her ability to think, let alone argue.

She had not, however, lost her ability to make spectacularly bad decisions it seemed. Instead of pushing him away and kicking his ass for pulling such a bone-headed move, she'd grabbed a fistful of his shirt, shoved him against the door, and gone at him like she was auditioning for a part in Debbie does Albuquerque.

Which would have quickly turned into Mary does Marshall had some hapless civil servant not tried to duck into the stairway, hoping to steal a quick smoke, and sent them both tumbling to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.

Mortified at her own behavior, she'd scrambled away, intent on putting some distance between herself and her partner. Once she'd managed to get back to her feet, she'd taken one look at him, still sprawled on the floor and looking thoroughly stunned, and she'd done the only thing she knew how to do.

She had run.

That had been over five hours ago. She'd driven around aimlessly for a while, trying to clear her head and come up with some kind of game plan, when her car had puttered up and died, leaving her stranded out in the middle of nowhere, which had led to her current predicament.

She knew she'd have to get someone to come pick her up eventually. Unfortunately, her choices were somewhat limited. She refused to call Raph or Brandi. Her mother was also out of the question, given that she was probably passed out on the couch by now. Which left her with...

Marshall.

She was _not_ calling her partner.


	2. Admitting Defeat

**Chapter 2**: Admitting Defeat

Two hours later, still sitting on the hood of her car & freezing her ass off, she finally admitted defeat. Sighing, she turned her cell phone on and hit the speed dial, steeling herself for the less-than-pleasant conversation that was sure to follow.

"Where the hell are you?!" her partner barked into the phone without so much as a greeting.

"I'm ok," she answered, hoping that the knowledge she was safe would take the edge off his anger.

"You're ok?! That's all you have to say to me?!" he said, practically shouting now.

_So much for trying to reassure him_, she thought.

"You've been gone for hours!" he continued, sounding increasingly pissed off. "You're a U.S. Marshal, damn it! You can't just disappear like that!!"

"I-"

"What were you thinking?!"

"I didn't-"

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?!"

"I'm sorry," she whispered into the phone, mentally kicking herself for her childish behavior. She should have known he'd worry about her. Marshall always worried about her, even though he knew full well she could take care of herself. Not that she'd ever admit to it, but she kind of liked that he did. No one else in her life seemed to...

"Where are you?" he finally asked, the anger gone from his voice.

"On Rte 337, just past Ponderosa Pines."

"I'll be right there," he replied, disconnecting the call before she had a chance to thank him.


	3. Getting Even

**Chapter 3: Getting Even**

Her partner arrived 30 minutes later, bearing hot coffee and a warm blanket. Touched that he would go to even this much trouble after she ditched him without so much as a word of explanation, she accepted both with a quiet _thank you_ and climbed into the heated SUV, settling into the passenger seat.

She watched as he got back behind the wheel, put the car in drive & set a course back towards Albuquerque. She waited for the questions she knew would come, but her partner remained uncharacteristically silent, focused on the road ahead.

"Marshall?"

He didn't respond, didn't so much as acknowledge he had heard her.

"Marshall," she tried again, determined to clear the air, "we need to talk about-"

"No, we don't," he replied, his tone flat and emotionless. "I get it. It won't happen again."

She looked at him, confused. She wasn't quite sure what she'd expected would happen when he showed up, but this wasn't it.

"I don't understand-"

"What is there to understand? I made a mistake. End of story."

"A mistake?" she repeated, increasingly confused. She was obviously missing something here, but she didn't have a clue as to what that something might be. She was the one who'd acted like a hormone-crazed teenager just because of one stupid little kiss, so why-"

Oh...

"Kissing me was a mistake," she said softly, wondering how she could have missed that.

"Great. Now that we both agree, could we just forget about it and move on?"

She stared at him, mentally kicking herself for making such a mess of things. She'd been so busy obsessing over how what had happened _might_ affect her that she'd failed to think about how her just taking off _would_ affect her partner.

"Marshall, stop the car."

He shot her a quick glance, obviously confused by her request.

"Stop the car," she repeated. "Now."

"Why?"

Unwilling to spend time arguing, and more than a little afraid she'd chicken out if given enough time to think about it, she made a grab for the wheel, trying to steer them off the road.

"What are you doing?!" he yelped, hitting the brakes.

Not even waiting for the SUV to come to a full stop, she shoved open the door and jumped out, quickly making her way to the driver's side.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked as she yanked open his door.

"Get out of the car."

"What is wrong with you?" he demanded, making no move to get out.

"Trying to fix things."

"Uh?"

Not sure she could explain it – and not willing to waste any time even trying to - she leaned in, unbuckled his seatbelt, and dragged him out of his seat.

He just stared at her, bewildered by her behavior.

"Have you totally lost your mind?!"

Not an unreasonable question, she thought, but one she chose not to answer.

At least not just yet.

Not really thinking about what she was doing, just knowing she had to get them back on even footing somehow, she backed him up against the truck, cutting off any possible escape routes.

"What are you doing?" he asked, more than just a hint of worry in his voice. Judging by the look on his face, her partner was now having serious doubts about her sanity.

"Stop being such a worry-wart, will you? Just... Trust me..."

He nodded, though he didn't look at all reassured.

Quickly closing the remaining gap between them, she did the only thing she could think of.

She kissed him.

Seconds passed, feeling like an eternity, without any kind of reaction from him. She knew she shouldn't be surprised, given what she had put him through over the last few hours, but she couldn't help feeling a twinge of disappointment.

_At least he's not fighting me_, she thought. _That's something..._

Just as she was about to admit defeat and pull away, he looped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, returning the kiss.

After allowing herself a few moments to enjoy the newfound closeness, she reluctantly broke the kiss, eliciting a soft groan from her partner.

"We're even," she said softly, taking a shaky step back.

He stared at her, looking stunned. Not to mention confused, and more than just a little hurt...

"You said kissing me was a mistake," she tried to explain, fighting the urge to step back into his arms and finish what they had started. "If you truly believe that, then this makes us even..."

He still said nothing, making her wonder if this would turn out to be another monumental mistake on her part. Still, she pressed on, unwilling to give up just yet.

"Since we've both made the same mistake, can we talk now?"

She held her breath, waiting for an answer. _Please, Marshall, _she silently begged, _give me a chance to try and fix this..._

"OK," he replied after what seemed like forever, a resigned expression on his face.

"Thank you," she said, letting out a sigh of relief.

Now came the hard part, she knew. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself and asked the one question that had been haunting her all day.

"Why did you kiss me?"


	4. Not Breaking the Rules

**Chapter 4: (Not) Breaking the Rules**

"Does the 'why' really matter at this point?" he asked, looking into her eyes. "What's done is done. I can't undo it, even if I wanted to..."

"I don't want you to undo it," she said softly, holding his gaze. "I just need to know why."

"How will knowing change anything?"

"I don't know," she replied honestly. How could she possibly explain it to him when she didn't quite understand it herself? "I'm not sure that it will change anything," she added, "but I... I just know that I need to know..."

He nodded, but still said nothing.

"Marshall-"

"You realize this will probably change things for us," he said, interrupting her before she could say more. "Between us," he clarified, before falling silent once again.

"I know," she acknowledged.

_Things have already changed between us_, she silently added. _They started changing long before today_...

Sighing, her partner ran his hand through his hair, something she knew he did when faced with a situation he wasn't quite sure how to handle. She idly wondered if _she_ was the situation he didn't know quite how to handle this time...

"All right," he quietly acquiesced, interrupting her thoughts. "But, if we're really going to do this, we're going to need some ground rules."

"Rules?" she whined, making a face.

She _hated_ rules.

Well, to be fair, she had no problems enforcing rules on other people; she just didn't like it so much when she was expected to follow them herself, and Marshall knew that better than anyone. Lord knew she'd broken enough rules in the years they'd been partners, quite a few of them with his help...

"What exactly did you have in mind?" she asked wearily. She knew her partner could be very imaginative when he wanted to, and she was more than a little concerned about what he might come up with in this case.

"Nothing major," he said, looking mildly amused at her reaction. "Just three basic rules ought to do it, I think."

"Sounds reasonable," she replied, thinking that really didn't sound so bad.

She could do that.

She could totally deal with three puny little rules.

She was, after all, a U.S. Marshal. She dealt with difficult situations on a daily basis. She could disable someone with nothing more than an airborne bar of soap; she could chase down a suspect while wearing heels & a bridesmaid dress; she could single-handedly push her stalled car out of the path of an incoming train – still wearing said heels & bridesmaid dress, no less. Not to mention she managed to live under the same roof as her mother & sister without going completely insane. Surely she could handle whatever rules her partner threw at her...

Right?

"Rule number 1: You need to let me speak. That means no interrupting."

"But-"

"Well, that didn't take too long," he said, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Which part of 'no interrupting' didn't get through to you, exactly?"

While she could tell by his tone that he wasn't really mad – yet – she still got the message. _Behave yourself or this conversation ends right now._

Besides, she knew he had a point – she did have a tendency to hijack conversations – but that didn't mean her feelings weren't a bit hurt. But since she wanted answers – scratch that, since she _needed_ answers – she was just going to have to get over it.

"I'm not saying you can't ask a question or say anything," he added, sensing her bruised feelings. "It's just that... You're not going to like some of what I have to say... But you need to let me say it... Fair enough?"

"Fair enough," she agreed, taking great care to keep her voice neutral.

"All right... Rule number 2: You need to listen to me. _Really_ listen to me."

She started to protest again – not a promising start to respecting the Rules of Marshall, she realized – but he beat her to the punch.

"I know you, Mare. Right now, you want to say that you _always_ listen to me. But you don't. You _know_ you don't. When it gets uncomfortable, or when I'm saying things you don't want to hear, you tune me out."

She bit her lip and looked away, knowing he was right. She'd never been very good at dealing with emotional stuff, so she just tried to ignore it whenever possible. Her dysfunctional family relationships, along with her inability to sustain any kind of long-term romantic relationship, were proof enough of that...

"I'm not saying this to hurt you," he added gently. "I just need to know you're really listening to what I'm saying, that you're really _hearing_ me, because I'll only say it once. Okay?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice. She was seriously starting to wonder if three rules might be more than she could handle after all...

"Rule number 3: You need to accept that not everything is about you."

She was pretty sure she'd want to protest this rule too, if only she knew what he was talking about. Thoroughly confused, she just stared at him, waiting for an explanation.

"I need you to understand that whatever I've done, whatever I'm about to say..."

He paused, struggling to find the right words.

"What I'm trying to say is that my actions and my feelings are of my own. They are not your fault in any way. And whatever comes out of this – or doesn't come out of this – is not your fault either."

He paused, searching her face for something.

"It's really all about _me_, this time," he added, his eyes never leaving hers.

She swallowed hard, again wondering if she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life. This wasn't like all the conversations and arguments they'd had in the past. There would be no do-over, no 'let's forget this ever happened.' This could potentially destroy them, she knew. Was it really worth the risk?

Could she go on without Marshall in her life?

"Okay?" he asked, noticing she'd been silent for a while.

"Yeah, okay," she agreed, struggling to keep her voice from cracking and failing miserably.

Every instinct she possessed was screaming at her to stop this now, before it was too late, before she managed to destroy the one good thing in her life...

"You're sure you still want to do this?" he asked, sensing she was wavering, offering her a way out.

"Yes, I'm sure," she managed to croak out.

As scared as she was that she was about to screw up her life beyond repair, god help her, she still needed to know...

"Tell me," she begged. "Please."


	5. Jumping the Gun

**Chapter 5: Jumping the Gun**

"I panicked," he sighed, slumping back against the SUV.

"You panicked," she repeated slowly. "Okay, I'm gonna need a little bit more than that, Marshall."

"I saw you with Dershowitz, being all cute and flirty, and I just kind of lost it," he added, as if that explained everything.

Which it totally did not.

"And?" she prompted, hoping for something a little more illuminating this time.

"And..." He paused, making a face. "I probably should have thought this through a little bit better..."

"Did you think it through even just a little bit?" she asked, the ghost of a smile on her face.

"No, I didn't," he admitted. "I was definitely better prepared the last couple of times I tried to do this," he added distractedly, almost as an afterthought.

She blinked hard, processing what he'd just said.

_The last couple of times I tried to do this..._

Jesus... How many times had he tried to talk to her? And how many times had she not been listening?

She struggled to focus her attention back on her partner, vowing not to fail him this time. She _was_ going to listen to whatever he had to say, no matter how difficult it might be. He deserved at least that much from her...

"Still," he continued, unaware of her inner turmoil, "it shouldn't be that hard, should it? I mean, I _know_ why I did it. I should be able to just _say_ it..."

"Marshall-"

"I know, I know..." he said, running his hand through his hair again. "I'm babbling... Trying to delay the inevitable... Just give me some time to work my way up to it, okay?"

She nodded mutely, growing increasingly uneasy. Her partner was not usually one to beat around the bush. When he wanted to say something, he just said it. He did not dawdle; he did not 'work his way up' to things; and he certainly did not babble. This was definitely not the Marshall she knew...

_There was one other time_, her subconscious piped in, unsolicited. _One other time when he wouldn't meet your eyes, wouldn't answer your questions_...

Shaking her head, she pushed away the memories of the hours spent in that abandoned gas station, watching him bleed out into a half-empty water bottle, not knowing whether he was going to live or die...

"What do you see when you look at me?"

"Wh-what?" she stuttered, jarred back to reality by the sudden change in topics. "I don't understand what that has to do with-"

"I promise I have a point. Just... Tell me what you see..."

"All right..." She paused, trying to organize her thoughts. "I see a U.S Marshal, one of the very best out there; I see someone who has my back, no matter what; I see the the smartest, kindest, most loyal person I've ever known."

She stole a glance at him, trying to determine if she was giving him the answers he needed, but his expression gave nothing away.

"I see my best friend," she added, her tone softening.

"But you don't see a lover, do you? You don't see someone you'd want to share a life with?"

"That's what this is all about?" she asked, relief coursing through her. "You want to have sex with me?"

Sex was no big deal; sex she could deal with...

"That's not-"

"It's okay," she said, cutting him off. "We're both adults. We can deal with this. It's just sex," she added, shrugging. "Besides, it not like I've never thought about it..."

Which was true enough. She wasn't blind; she had noticed her partner was – for lack of a better word – hot. Granted, he could be geeky at times, and he did drive her up the wall with the never-ending trivia more often than not, but that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate how good he looked in a worn t-shirt or how well he filled out a pair of jeans.

Or a pair of airplane pajamas, for that matter.

There had been a time, early on in their partnership, when she had seriously considered bedding him. It wasn't like he was going to stick around very long, she'd reasoned - her partners never did – so she might as well enjoy the ride.

No pun intended.

But then a funny thing had happened; they'd become friends. She'd finally found a guy she could have a conversation with that didn't revolve around who was going to be on top; someone who didn't back down when she got pushy; someone who could dish it out as good as she could.

An equal.

And that, she had decided, was worth much more than a few weeks of fun, no matter how great the sex might have been. She had resolutely brushed aside all thoughts of a sexual relationship, knowing that what they had was far more precious. Lovers were easy enough to come by, but there was only one Marshall...

Not that she wasn't willing to revisit the issue, mind you, if that was what her partner needed for things to get back to normal. By the time she was done with him, he wouldn't remember his own name, let alone whatever else might be bothering him. She might be a complete failure when it came to connecting emotionally with a guy, but she was _very_ good at dealing with the more physical aspects of a relationship...

She tugged at his shirt, idly wondering how roomy the SUV was, trying to work out the logistics. While she didn't mind the occasional acrobatic maneuver, she didn't really feel like having the emergency brake dig into her ass or bashing the back of her head against the windshield. Maybe renting a room was a better option. After all, she wasn't in high-school anymore...

She was about to ask her partner where he stood on the car-sex-versus-motel-sex issue when she noticed him staring at her, an alarmed expression on his face.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice several octaves higher than normal.

She cocked her head at him, wondering what was wrong. Had she been thinking out loud and freaked him out somehow?

"Sorry," she apologized. "I got a little sidetracked. But it's okay, really. We can fix this," she assured him, reaching for his belt buckle. "We can just-"

"Whoa!" he yelped, slapping her hands away from their intended destination. "Have you gone totally insane?!"

"You're right," she agreed, shaking her head. "A motel room _would_ be much better. I don't know what I was thinking. I really am getting too old for car sex..."

"Mary, you're not listening to me-"

"I-"

"It's not about sex!" he shouted at her, exasperated.

"Uh?"

"It's not about sex," he repeated slowly, in a more controlled voice.

"But you said-"

"I know what I said."

"I don't understand... It's _not_ about sex?" she asked again, thoroughly confused now.

He shook his head.

"You don't want to be with me," she added in a small voice, surprised at how hurt she felt.

"Jesus, Mare... "

She kept silent, pretty sure she couldn't say anything even if she wanted to.

"Okay," he acknowledged, his voice shaky. "Yes, it is partly about sex. I may be in love with you, but I'm still a guy, so sex with you, yeah, it's definitely on the list of things I want. It's pretty high on the list, to be honest, but it's not the most important thing..."

She stared at him, aware that he was still talking – still _babbling_ – but not hearing a single word. He just went on, blissfully unaware of what he'd just said, of the secret he'd just given away...

Her partner didn't just want to have sex with her.

Her partner was _in love_ with her.

Aw, crap...


	6. Pretending

**Chapter 6: Pretending**

Her partner, the normally one sane person in her otherwise chaotic life, thought he was in love with her. Had he completely lost his mind? She wasn't lovable. Hell, she wasn't even all that likable! She stared at him, stifling the urge to reach over and shake him until he admitted he was wrong.

Until he admitted he wasn't in love with her.

He obviously wasn't thinking straight. He couldn't feel that way about her; he just couldn't. He knew everything about her: all the neuroses, the emotional baggage, the less-than-endearing personality traits. He knew all her secrets too, even the ones she really wished he didn't. No sane man would want to come near her knowing all that...

She idly wondered why the men in her life all eventually wound up thinking they were in love with her. She could sort of understand how some of her past conquests might have felt that way. All they'd ever seen of her was what _she_ wanted them to see. In their eyes, she must have seemed like the perfect girlfriend: never nagging, never wanting to discuss her feelings, and _always_ up for a good time. In the end, was it really all that surprising they'd fallen for her?

Marshall, though, really ought to know better. By all rights, he should be running away from her, screaming; not standing by her side, professing his love...

He was obviously confused, mistaking friendship & physical attraction for something more. She was just going to have to show him that he was wrong, that his being in love with her was simply... not possible...

Everything would be okay once he realized she was right, that he didn't – couldn't – feel that way about her. Once he did admit he was wrong, they could go back to their lives, putting all this nonsense behind them, and she could go on pretending nothing had changed, that her best friend was still _just_ her best friend...

"Mary?"

She looked up, startled. She'd been so busy trying to convince herself her partner _wasn't_ in love with her that she'd failed to notice he had finally stopped talking and was now looking at her curiously.

"You're not thinking straight," she blurted out without thinking. "You can't be in-"

She stopped short, realizing too late that her partner still didn't have a clue he'd admitted to being in love with her.

"I can't be in what?" he asked, a speculative expression on his face.

She squirmed under his gaze, silently cursing herself for not thinking this through. She now saw that, had she only kept quiet, her partner might have never realized what he'd said. They could have gone back to their blissfully unaware lives, only slightly worse for wear. But now, thanks to her big mouth, he'd find out what had happened.

He'd find out she knew how he felt.

She couldn't let that happen. This was her chance to sweep this whole mess under the carpet, where she wouldn't have to deal with any of it, and she wasn't about to let it go to waste.

She racked her brain, furiously looking for a way out of her current predicament. She only knew she had to end this conversation _now_, before she dug herself into an even deeper hole. If she could only get them back in the truck and on their way home to Albuquerque...

She stole a quick glance at her partner, knowing he was trying to puzzle out what she'd been about to say. It was only a matter of time before he figured it out, too, with that smart brain of his. Damn, what she wouldn't do for a dim-witted partner right about now...

She fought to remain calm, knowing this was not the time to panic. She just need to distract him somehow, to get him off this track, and she needed to do it now...

"Sorry," she managed to say in a voice that almost sounded normal. "I have no idea where I was going with that. I'm a little dim right now, what with the long day, the lack of caffeine, and all the excitement..."

Not the most original of excuses, but it had gotten her out some uncomfortable spots in the past, so it might work.

Maybe.

"So," she continued, "do you think you could just take me home? I'm really sorry I dragged you out here in the first place. I'll make it up to you somehow, I promise, but right now, all I want is to crawl into bed and sleep for a few hours..."

She threw a jaw-unhinging yawn in for good measure. Never let it be said she did things half-assed...

When a full minute passed without any any further questions, she started to think she might actually be able to pull this off. Time to get this show on the road. Literally...

"Great. I'm so tired I might collapse right here by the side of the road if we don't get going," she added for good measure, as she started to make her way to the passenger side of the truck.

"What gave me away?" her partner asked as he stepped in front of her, effectively blocking her escape route.

So much for her clean getaway... Still, she was loath to give up when freedom lay so close at hand...

"What? I... I don't know what you're talking about."

Playing dumb had also served her well in the past, so she figured it was worth a shot...

"Come on, Mare. I know you. I've spent the last few years watching you run away whenever some poor schmuck tried to get close to you. You always get that same look, like you're trapped and you're willing to chew off your own foot rather than stay and deal with the issue at hand. You have that look right now, and I don't think it's because I kissed you. Or at least it's not _just_ because I kissed you. So... What gave me away? I said something, didn't I..."

"Don't do this, Marshall."

"I've come this far," he shrugged. "Can't stop now."

"Please," she begged, "let's just forget about this and go home..."

"No amount of pretending is going to make this go away."

"We could try..."

"I'm sorry, but I just..." He paused, obviously struggling to find the right words. "I'm done pretending. It's exhausting, and I just can't do it anymore. And while this is definitely not how I had planned to tell you..."

"Don't-"

"... at least now you know."

"Marshall-"

"I'm in love with you. Do you honestly think that's going to go away just because you refuse to acknowledge it?"

"I was kind of hoping it would, yeah."

"Sorry."

"If you were really sorry, you'd take it back."

"Even if I could take it back, I wouldn't."

"I know," she admitted, knowing it was true, which just made her feel all the more trapped. She didn't want this, any of this. She didn't want things to change.

Why was he doing this to her?

"Look, I know this is huge, and I really am sorry I sprang it on you like this, but you _are_ going to have to deal with it. _We_ are going to have to deal with it."

"What if I don't want to deal with it?" she asked petulantly, not caring that she was being childish. Damn him for forcing her into a position she didn't want to be in. Why couldn't he leave her alone? Why couldn't he let her pretend, just a little while longer?

"I don't see that you really have a choice," he replied gently, refusing to rise to the bait. "You'll have to talk to me eventually, unless you're planning on avoiding me for the rest of your life..."

"Jesus, Marshall..."

She took a deep breath, feeling the anger drain away. This wasn't his fault, she knew. She was the emotionally stunted half of this team, not him. He had every right to express his feelings, even if she _really_ didn't want him to...

"I'm sorry..." she apologized, "I'm not any good at this... I just... I can't..."

"Is my being in love with you really such a horrible thing?" he asked softly, throwing her for another loop.

She hesitated, not because she didn't know the answer, but because she knew it would cause him pain.

Which really only served to prove her point.

This – _they_ – simply could never be...


	7. All the Reasons Why Not

Chapter 7: All the Reason Why (Not)

"Marshall-"

"No," he said, cutting her off. "No stalling, no changing topics. Just... Yes or no..."

"Yes."

She held her breath, bracing herself for her partner's reaction. She knew he'd be hurt, but he wasn't giving her much of a choice…

"Why?"

"Why what?" she asked, thinking she must have missed something.

"Why is my being in love with you such a horrible thing?"

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, confused. "I know it's not the answer you were hoping for, but-"

"The answer doesn't really matter. It's more about the process."

"The process? I don't understand... What-"

"It's not like I expected you to just fall into my arms," he continued, ignoring her questions, "or to suddenly declare your undying love for me."

"What did you expect, then? Why do all this?"

"I know you," he shrugged. "I know how you think, how you deal with emotional situations. You need to go through the entire process before you can deal with the real issue."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, confused again. Leave it to Marshall to make something as simple as unrequited feelings sound so complicated...

"You go through stages," he explained. "Kind of like people do when dealing with the death of a loved one."

"That's crazy..."

"No, think about it. Avoidance, denial, anger, acceptance... Any of this ringing a bell?"

"I was upset," she countered, trying to explain her earlier actions. "Anyone would have reacted in the same way."

"It was a kiss, Mare; not exactly 'end of the world as we know it' material."

"I just... Panicked... That's it... You're reading way too much into this..."

"Am I?"

Damn him! Why couldn't he just give up? Everyone else did, eventually; every last single one of them… So why couldn't _he_ just leave well enough alone?

"Ok, so my being in love with you is horrible," he confirmed. "Tell me why. Convince me."

"I don't want to play this game, Marshall-"

"No games, I promise. But we're not leaving until you convince me."

Jesus, did the man always have to know everything about everyone? Knowing he wouldn't give up, she racked her brain, trying to come up with a good reason. "You're not my type," she blurted out, thinking it should at least buy her some time.

Her statement was met with a burst of laugher. What was so funny? It might not be the greatest of arguments, but it was still a valid one!

"You're not serious, are you?" her partner asked, trying to quell his laughter.

"Why wouldn't I be serious? It's a valid point!"

"All right," he agreed, getting himself under control. "Look… I may indulge in a bit of self-denial every once in a while, but even I couldn't have possibly missed the fact that I'm as far from 'your type' as I can get. I'm a bit too light on muscles & heavy on brain power for that..."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you implying I only go for muscle-bound morons?"

"Well, you have to admit you do tend to favor brawn over brain..."

"That doesn't mean that I'm doomed to end up with some single-digit-IQ, Hercules-wannabe himbo!"

"My point exactly," he smirked. "You're much too smart to waste your life with one of those guys. You need someone who challenges you, someone who can keep up with you."

"And that someone is you, I suppose?" she asked, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

"I'm not saying it has to be me; only that it _could_ be me."

She wasn't stupid; she knew that, outside the bedroom, she had very little in common with the guys she dated. She didn't care, either. She knew going in that the relationship wasn't going to last. That was kind of the point, to be honest…

"Besides," he added, interrupting her thoughts, "if nothing else, today's events have proven that, while I may not be your type, you're still attracted to me…"

"A couple of kisses don't prove anything."

"Do you really want to argue that point," he asked, leaning in close, "because I'd be more than happy to…"

She bit her lip, trying to figure out the best way out of this. All she knew for sure was that Very Bad Things were going to happen if she let him get any closer…

"Well?" he asked, the grin on his face making it very clear he knew _exactly_ what she was thinking.

"Fine," she capitulated. "You win. I think you're hot. I want to jump your bones. Are you happy now?"

"Not as happy as I would be if you actually would ju-"

"Oh my god… What do I have to do to make you shut up?"

"Well…" he drawled, leering at her.

"You're sick, you know that?"

"Just one of the many reasons you love me," he chirped, stepping back to a safer distance.

"You just keep telling yourself that, you jackass…"

"So… Next argument?" he quipped, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"You really want to keep doing this?"

"Yep. One argument – which you lost – certainly didn't convince me."

"Fine… We work together."

"If that's really all that's stopping you, I'll hand Stan my letter of resignation first thing in the morning."

"What?!" she stuttered, thrown by his oh-so-very unexpected response. "But you... You love being a Marshal... You wouldn't just... quit..."

"You're right. I do love being a Marshal; it's always been a big part of who I am. But, in the end, it's still just a job," he added, shrugging. "The Marshal Service isn't the only place I can make a difference. I could be perfectly content working elsewhere."

"You really expect me to believe you'd be happy working somewhere like Peterson Consulting?" she spat out angrily, obviously not yet over the hurt & confusion she'd felt when finding that job offer on his desk.

"I thought we'd gotten over that," he sighed. "My applying to Peterson was... It wasn't about the Marshal Service. And it wasn't about leaving you. Not really…"

"What was it about, then?"

"It was more about finding out if I could leave… And maybe whether leaving would really change anything."

"Did it?"

"Yes. No. I don't know... Does it really matter?"

"It does if the only reason you stayed is because I said you couldn't leave," she replied quietly, wondering why she kept asking these questions. She was supposed to try and get herself out of this mess; not dig herself in deeper…

"I stayed because I wanted to stay. Okay?"

She studied his face, trying to figure out if he was being honest.

"I'm exactly where I want to be," he added. "Right by your side. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"All right… Next argument?"

She didn't even bother arguing this time. She knew her partner well enough to know he wouldn't give up. She might as well just answer his questions…

"You're my best friend."

"And you're my best friend," he said tiredly. "We've had this conversation before…"

"I know, but-"

"A lot of people would think that's a good thing, you know. Relationships do tend to do better long-term when you can relate to the other person on a level other than horizontal."

"Yeah, but at least with my approach, nobody gets hurt."

"Only because you don't know really know anything about each other."

"It's better that way," she shrugged. "You & me... It would be a disaster. We know each other too well; we'd just end up destroying one another… Why would you want to open yourself up to that? Why would anyone?"

"Hopefully because you think it's worth the risk."

"I'm not worth it. I'm really not."

"Yes, you are," he replied quietly, sounding absolutely sure.

How could he do that? How could he trust her so completely, when she didn't even trust herself?

"What happens when it's over?" she asked on impulse, surprising even herself.

"Why would you assume it will eventually be over?" he asked, frowning.

"Nothing lasts forever. I'll do something to screw it up, to drive you away, and then I'll be left alone with a broken heart and no best friend."

"Jesus, Mare… First off, my friendship isn't dependent on what happens tonight, all right? If you really don't feel the same way about me, I will accept that. And if we do give it a try, and it ends some time down the line, well, I'll still be here."

"You say that now, but-"

"It might be difficult & awkward for a while, but you won't get rid of me just because we're not together."

"That's just not realistic. You'll leave, just like everyone else I've ever loved… "

"I won't abandon you. Ever. I promise you that."

She wanted to argue that he was wrong, that there was no way he could promise such a thing, but he just sounded so damned sure…

"Got anything else?"

"I'm a horrible girlfriend."

"You're not a horrible girlfriend."

"Yes, I am. You know I am. You've said so yourself, with Raph-"

"You're not a horrible girlfriend; you're horrible at doing girlfriend-y things. There is a difference."

"And what exactly is the difference?"

"I don't need a girlfriend to cook & clean for me, run errands for me, or do any of those typical things guys expect from their girlfriends. I can take care of myself just fine; I've been doing it for years."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you. I just want... you."

"Why?"

He looked at her questioningly.

"I treat you like my own personal errand boy," she explained. "I ignore you, make fun of you. I basically abuse you for my own personal amusement. How can you possibly love me?"

"It doesn't sound all that good when you put it that way," he agreed.

"Then why?"

"It's not any one thing-"

"But it's at least one, right?" she insisted. "Just give me one thing."

"You make me happy."

Happy? Was he insane? There was no way she made anyone happy, least of all Marshall. For god's sake, she even made herself miserable most of the time!

"Despite all the drama;" he continued, "despite the fact that you sometimes make me absolutely crazy; despite the string of hunky boyfriends you've paraded in front of me over the years; despite _everything_... In the end, you just… make me happy. I've never felt that way about anyone, and I'm not about to walk away without at least trying."

She kept quiet, not trusting her voice. Besides, she couldn't really think of anything to say to that…

"And it's not like it's all bad, despite what you may think. You challenge me in ways no one else can; you make me laugh, even without trying; you understand me, when no one else would; and you always have my back, no matter what the circumstances."

"But why is that love?"

"Why is it ever love?" he asked, shrugging. "All I know is I do love you."

"It's just not possible. You're not really in love with me. You're just-"

"Don't do that!" he said roughly, taking her by surprise. "You can't take this away from me, Mare. No amount of denial on your part is going to change the fact that I _am_ in love with you. I need you to understand that. I need you to _accept_ it..."

"There's really not much point to my giving you more reasons, is there?" she asked, knowing the answer.

"Not really."

"I'm not going to change your mind, no matter what, am I?"

"No, you're not."

"Okay," she acquiesced, giving in. She looked at her partner, understanding for the first time that he truly meant it. Despite everything he'd said in the last few hours, she'd still believed it was just hormones, just a crush that would eventually pass. But she now realized she'd just been deluding herself. Marshall _was_ in love with her, and there was nothing she could do to change that…

"Really?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah," she said. "I give up. You win."

"It's not about winning..."

"I know. But it still feels like I lost," she replied, shrugging.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You were right. I needed to work through it. But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"So," he gently asked, "are you ready to deal with the real issue now?"

"No," she replied sullenly, knowing he was going to make her anyway. She knew she was being childish, but she was exhausted – both physically & emotionally – and it wasn't like she was all that mature even when she was in tip-top shape…

"I'll make you a deal," he offered, sensing her mood. "If you answer just one more question, I promise I'll do whatever you want. I'll let it go... I'll pretend none of this happened, if that's what you need…"

"What's the catch?"

"No catch. But you have to answer honestly. No trying to dodge the question. No hiding behind half-truths. Just tell me what you're feeling. Okay?"

She nodded in agreement.

"All right… You've gone to great pains to outline all these reasons why this could never work, why we shouldn't even consider going down that road… And I understand your fears, I really do; it's not like I haven't asked myself some of the very same questions, haven't had some of the very same doubts. But the real reason you're so afraid… You didn't really touch on that… So I have to ask, even though I'm pretty sure I know the answer already… Okay?"

"Is that the question?" she quipped.

He glared at her, obviously not amused.

"Sorry," she replied, suitably chastised. "Go ahead, ask your question."

"Are you in love with me?"


	8. Telling a Lie

**Chapter 8: Telling a Lie**

She stood rooted to the spot, staring at her partner in disbelief. In retrospect, she realized she should have seen this coming; god knew anyone else would have. Then again, not everyone one was as skilled as she was when it came to ignoring the obvious...

_Are you in love with me?_

What the hell kind of question was that, anyway? Didn't he know that wasn't something you could just _ask_ someone? It was supposed to be something you volunteered, not something you were forced to admit to under duress!

She stifled the urge to bash her head against the nearest hard surface, if only to delay having to make a decision. She didn't know what to do, what to say.... The only thing she did know was that she couldn't answer his question; then again, she couldn't _not_ answer it either.

She sighed, knowing she couldn't stall much longer. If she'd learned anything about her partner tonight, aside from the whole 'I'm in love with you' thing, it was that he wasn't going to let her off the hook. He'd just keep at her until she caved in and she gave him what he wanted.

Still, telling him the truth certainly wasn't an option...

"Marshall-"

"You agreed, Mare," he reminded her. "Just this one question."

"I can't-" she said, stubbornly shaking her head.

"Yes, you can. Either you are, or you're not."

"It's not that simple!" she barked at him, exasperated. Didn't he understand what he was asking her to do? No matter what she said, no matter what her answer was, things would change. She didn't want change, damn it! She liked things the way they were now!

"Yeah, it is," he said, interrupting her thoughts. "Just tell me how you feel. Don't over-think it."

"Damn it, Marshall, don't push me!"

"I'll stop as soon as you answer my question."

"Fine! I don't know how I feel about you, all right? I just don't know!"

"Yes, you do," he replied calmly, refusing to let her mounting agitation get to him.

"Oh my god, will you stop it with the Zen crap?! You're driving me insane!"

"Zen crap?" he repeated, looking mildly amused.

What was wrong with him? Her world was crashing down around her, and he was just standing there, looking all peaceful and... well, 'happy' probably wasn't the right term, given everything, but it was pretty damn close... She stifled the urge to smack him, just to wipe that look off his face. Why should she be the only one miserable?

"How the hell can you be so calm about all this?" she asked through clenched teeth, trying very hard to remind herself that this was Marshall – her partner & best friend – and that beating him to a bloody pulp really wouldn't solve anything.

"I've just had more time to get used to the idea, I guess," he said, shrugging as if it was no big deal. "Look, I get that this is scary. No matter which way it goes, things are probably going to get messy."

"Then don't-"

"Not an option," he said, cutting her off. "Please, Mary... Are you in love with me?"

"I don't know!"

"That's a cop-out. And you don't do cop-outs."

"But-"

"Yes-"

"I can't-"

"Or no."

"Marshall-"

"One single word, Mare. Can't get much simpler than that."

"All right!" she snapped, no longer caring about the consequences. She just wanted to go home and pretend none of this had ever happened. Was that really too much to ask? "You want an answer, Marshall," she continued, "well, here it is... No, I'm not in love with you. Are you happy, now? Is that what you wanted to know?!"

"Yeah, I guess it was..."

Something about his tone of voice cut through her anger, bringing home the enormity of what she'd just done.

"Oh god, Marshall... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to-"

"I wanted an answer," he said, his voice now flat and emotionless. "You gave me one."

"I know, but-"

"I'm fine," he insisted, though she could tell he was anything but. "You did your part. Now I need to do mine."

"Marshall-" she started, once again trying to explain.

"I just need some time, all right?"

"But-"

"I promised we'd go on, no matter what, and we will. I just can't..." He paused, struggling to find the right words. "I'm not ready to do that just yet, so please... Just let it go for now..."

"I can't-"

"Yes, you can. This is what you wanted... For me to stop, to leave it alone... To leave _you_ alone..."

"I know, but-"

"Once I've had time to regroup, I'll be fine. _We'll_ be fine."

She desperately wanted to believe him, but one look at his face told her it wasn't going to happen. No matter how much he wanted it to be true, things could never be the same.

Even if he could get past it, she knew _she_ wouldn't be able to. It wasn't so much finding out that he was in love with her – she was pretty sure she could explain that away if she tried hard enough, thanks to her awesome powers of denial. No, the real problem was that he'd forced her to take a hard look at herself, and at how _she_ felt about him... No amount of denial was ever going to make that go away...

"Come on," he said tiredly, climbing back into the SUV, "let's just go home..."

"All right," she agreed, feeling numb, not knowing what else to do.

_I'm so sorry, Marshall..._

She hadn't meant to hurt him; she'd just wanted to escape. Why couldn't he have just left well enough alone? None of this would have happened if he'd just let her go...

She sighed, knowing it wasn't really his fault. All he'd wanted was an honest answer out of her so he'd know where he stood. She was the one who'd gone on the attack, like she always did, badly hurting her him in the process. This was on her, not him...

She didn't know how she was going to fix this – didn't even know for sure she _could_ fix it – but she sure as hell was going to try.

_I'll make it up to you somehow, I promise..._

The ride home was conducted in silence, leaving her plenty of time to think about what she'd done, and strengthening her resolve to fix things between them.

For once in her life, she wasn't going to run away...


	9. Facing the Facts

**Chapter 9: Facing the Facts**

It had been just over a month since the whole 'I'm in love with you' debacle (35 days, to be exact – not that she was counting), and she wasn't sure how much more she could take.

Not that anything had changed, really; at least not on the surface. To anyone watching, they were still the same Mary & Marshall they'd always been. They still bickered; they still goofed around; they still had each other's backs, no matter what...

And yet, everything felt... Different. Wrong_._

She knew it wasn't really Marshall's fault. He'd held his part of the bargain, treating her the same as he always had. No, the problem was with her; _she_ had changed.

In the past 35 days – and again, just to make it absolutely clear, she was _not_ keeping count – she'd had plenty of time to figure out what had gone wrong. After a lot of soul-searching – which she oh-so-_completely_ sucked at, by the way – she'd been forced to face a few facts.

Fact number one: Her partner was in love with her. There was no denying that, no wishing it away. It just... was.

Fact number two: There was a pretty good chance she was in love with him too.

Needless to say, she hadn't reacted particularly well to that last bit of insight. Her first instinct had been to try and disprove it. Her brilliant plan? Sex with Raph. She'd gone to his place & dragged him into the bedroom without so much as a hello, determined to prove she was _not_ in love with her partner.

Afterwards, once he'd drifted off to sleep, she'd quietly slipped out of bed and gathered her clothes, desperate to get out of there. She'd actually managed to make it back to her car before dissolving into tears.

What the hell was wrong with her? She'd never been the type to moon over a guy or agonize over what to do. When she wanted something – or someone – she just went for it. And, while she'd had her share of hookups she wished she could forget, she'd certainly never felt _guilty_ about sleeping with a guy.

Yet there was no denying the fact that she'd felt guilty about bedding Raph. Her guilt had nothing to do with the man himself, though. She'd been using him as a walking, talking sex doll – albeit a very talented one – for months now, and she'd never lost any sleep over it. No, her problem was Marshall. Irrational as it may seem, she felt like she betrayed him. The fact that they weren't actually together didn't make one bit of difference.

That was when she had to face the truth. She was unavoidably, undeniably, _irrevocably_ in love with her partner.

Not that knowing helped in any way, mind you. For the first time since she'd met Marshall, she looked for reasons _not_ to spend time with him. When she _was_ with him, she didn't know how to act, let alone what to say.

She hated this; especially hated how she was turning into the wishy-washy type of _girl_ she'd always despised...

Desperate for some time alone to figure out her next step, she'd taken off work early, mumbling something about an appointment. If Marshall hadn't believe her, he hadn't say anything.

She'd gotten in her car, with no particular destination in mind. Something about the familiar motions of driving a car, honed by 20-some odd years of practice, had always helped clear her head & organize her thoughts. She'd solved many a case while driving on the way to nowhere...

Unfortunately, being behind the wheel brought her no peace this time. Her thoughts were still a tangled mess. Normally, she'd just go to Marshall for advice. Which was obviously not an option this time.

Then again, Marshall was really the only person who _could_ help.

On impulse, she pulled the car over, fished out her cell phone, and hit speed dial.

"Marshall!"

"Hey, it's Mary," she said, rather unnecessarily. Even without the help of caller ID, her partner always knew when she was on the other end of the line.

"Forget something?"

"Not so much forgotten as avoided."

"Uh?"

"Ask me again," she said, unwilling to waste any time on explanations now that she'd made up her mind.

"Okay..." her partner replied, sounding perplexed. "Did you forget something?" he asked again, enunciating every syllable.

"Not that, you idiot!"

"Well, then, you're going to have to be a little clearer, because I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Stop screwing around, Marshall!" she barked into the phone, instantly regretting her sharp tone. Even with the best of intentions, it was still hard to curb her innate need to push others to give her what she wanted, exactly _when_ she wanted it. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she tried again. "Sorry... I'm just a bit on edge."

"It's okay," he replied, sounding non-plussed. Marshall was used to her moods, after all.

_And yet he still wanted to be with her, insane man that he was..._

"No, it's really not," she sighed, "but that's probably the least of our problems right now."

"What do you need?"

"I just need you to ask me again." She paused, struggling to find the right way to say it. "Ask me if I'm in love with you."

She tensed, waiting for his answer. Time slowed to a crawl; ten seconds went by, then twenty... Biting her tongue in an attempt to keep quiet , she vowed to give him whatever time he needed. She'd been dragging this out for weeks; the least she could do was give him a few minutes...

Thirty seconds passed, then a minute, still without so much as a sound from her partner. She checked the phone's display, wondering if they'd gotten disconnected, but there was nothing wrong with the connection. The problem was on the other end; he just wasn't saying anything.

She couldn't remember the last time Marshall had been quiet for more than a few seconds. Even when he was shot, he'd still managed to spout trivia at her. So the fact that he wasn't saying anything right now was definitely not good...

"Marshall?" she prompted him, no longer able to stand the silence. To hell with not pushing him! She'd rather he told her she was too late, that he'd never really meant it, _anything_.

Anything other than... nothing.

"Why are you doing this, Mary?" he asked softly, the hurt in his voice unmistakable.

"Please, I just need you to ask me again."

"No."

"No?" she repeated, bewildered by his refusal. Of all the possible responses she'd imagined, flat-out refusal was not one of them. "Why not?"

"Because we've been through this before; I asked, you answered. It's over. What would be the point of revisiting the issue?"

"I guess we won't know until you ask me."

More silence.

"Marshall, _please_..."

"Where are you?'

"Why?"

"If you really want to do this, fine. We'll go through it again. But I'm not having this discussion over the phone."

"I don't know if-"

"Either we discuss this face-to-face, or we don't discuss it at all. Your choice."

"All right," she sighed in defeat, shifting her focus to her surroundings in an attempt to figure out where she was. She wasn't overly surprised to find she'd made her way to the one place she'd always felt welcome.

The one place where she'd always felt... wanted.

"I'm at your place," she told him.

"Don't move. I'll be there in 15 minutes," he said curtly before ending the connection.

Fifteen minutes. No problem. She could hold it together for fifteen minutes...


	10. Letting Go

**Chapter 10: Letting Go**

Knowing she was too wired to sit still for very long, she got out of the car and followed the flagstone path leading to the small porch gracing the front of the house. She figured that, if nothing else, at least she could pace out there...

She'd barely made it halfway up the path when the first drop of rain landed on her right hand, quickly followed by a half-dozen more. Startled, she looked up at the sky, noticing the mass of sooty clouds gathering overhead. While Albuquerque generally enjoyed warm & sunny weather – she vaguely recalled Marshall boasting the area averaged 310 days of sunshine per year – sudden, violent storms were not unheard of, especially in the winter months.

She stood uncertainly, considering her options.

The narrow front porch wouldn't offer much protection against a sudden storm. She might as well stand in the middle of the front yard, for all the good it would do her.

She could seek shelter in Marshall's house – she did have a key, after all – but she just couldn't bring herself to go in while he wasn't there. Before that fateful night, she wouldn't have thought twice about it; she'd always considered his house to be an extension of her own, to be honest. What was his was hers and all that jazz. But now... Now she just couldn't.

Which left her with... her car. She eyed the vehicle distastefully, not relishing the idea of being stuck in it during a downpour. Still, beggars couldn't be choosers... Just as she was about to make a run for it, the skies opened up, dumping gallons of water down on her in a matter of seconds.

Cursing her luck, she turned around and slowly walked up the rest of the path. There was little point in getting out of the rain now; she was already soaked to the bone. This was certainly shaping up to be a _fabulous_ day for her... Sighing, she sat down on the porch steps, trying to figure out exactly what she'd say to Marshall once he arrived.

The rain had already stopped by the time he pulled into the driveway 10 minutes later. Getting out of the car, he scowled as he caught sight of her, looking every bit like a drowned rat.

"What the hell are you doing outside?" he demanded as he walked towards her, house key in hand.

"I didn't feel like waiting in the car," she answered, hoping he'd leave it at that.

"Why aren't you in the house?"

_So much for that..._

"It's your house," she explained. "You weren't there."

"That's never stopped you from walking in as if you owned the place."

"It's different now. It felt like... like I'd be intruding."

"My home is always open to you, Mare," he sighed, turning away from her. "_Nothing_ will ever change that."

"I'm sorry," she replied, idly wondering how many times she'd said those words to him over the last month. It seemed to be her only form of communication these days...

"Don't," he said tiredly as he unlocked the front door. "Just... Get in the house."

She dutifully followed him inside, acutely aware that she was dripping all over his meticulously clean wooden floors.

"You better get out of those wet clothes," he shot over his shoulder, already halfway to his bedroom.

She bit back the instinct to reply with a sarcastic remark about him trying to get her naked. Yet another way things had changed; before that night, she would have teased him mercilessly. But now...

"Here," he said when he reappeared after a few minutes, carrying a pile of clothes. "Put these on. You can just throw your stuff in the dryer."

"Thanks."

She squished her way to the bathroom and made quick work of stripping off her dripping-wet clothes. She briefly hesitated about the bra & panties, but quickly discarded those as well as they were soaked through and through, just like the rest.

After drying herself off, she put on the UNM t-shirt & sweatpants Marshall had provided. Thankfully, he wasn't really the beefy-hunky type of guy, so the clothes fit reasonably well. After throwing her soggy clothes into the dryer and setting the timer, she went in search of her partner.

She found him in the kitchen, preparing mugs of hot chocolate. He never ceased to amaze her; even when she was being a major pain in the ass, he still tried to make things better for her. He deserved so much better than she could ever give him; and yet, despite everything, he still wanted her. The least she could do was let him know how she really felt about him...

"So, how do I look?" she asked, modeling the clothes for him in an effort to lighten up the mood.

"Not bad," he said after looking her over. "A little big for you, though. Maybe I should look for something with a little less... coverage," he suggested with a hint of a smile.

"You wish..." she smirked, happy to see her partner was in a better mood.

He motioned for her to sit down and handed her one of the steaming mugs, complete with miniature marshmallows & whipped cream.

"Thanks," she replied gratefully as she took a sip, letting the hot-chocolaty goodness warm her all the way to her toes.

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments; just two friends, sharing a quiet moment. She knew she should say something, but she was loathed to spoil the mood. Things had been so awkward with them lately; she hadn't really realized just how much she had missed this – how much she had missed _them –_ and she just wanted to enjoy the moment a little while longer...

"What do you want from me, Mare?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

_Break time over,_ she sighed, steeling herself for what was to come. She would _not_ chicken out this time; regardless of the consequences, she _would_ tell her partner she was in love with him...

"I told you," she said slowly, "I just need you to ask me again."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, _why_?"

"You told me how you feel. I've accepted that. I'm trying to move on. It's not easy, but I'm trying," he said before lapsing into silence. "You have to let me go, Mare," he added quietly. "I'll never be able to get over you if you don't let me go..."

"But I-"

"You can't do this. You can't just say 'ask me again' because you're feeling guilty, or insecure about where we stand, or whatever it is that's driving you to do this."

"I'm not-"

"It's not fair to me," he continued, cutting her off. "Hearing you say it once was painful enough; I have no desire to repeat the experience."

"What makes you think my answer would be the same?" she asked, unable to keep the hurt from her voice. While she could hardly blame him for questioning her motives, it still hurt to know he believed she'd hurt him again just to make herself feel better.

"I get that you're scared. But I know you... You're the most direct person I know. If you did love me, you would have told me that night."

"You keep going on about how you know me," she shot back, getting angry despite her best intentions, "yet you boxed me into a corner with no way out. What the hell did you think would happen?"

"Pretty much exactly what did happen, actually."

"What? I don't understand... You already knew what I'd say?"

"I always knew it was a distinct possibility, at the very least."

"Then why did you ask me? Why risk screwing up what we had when you already knew what my answer would be?" she asked, struggling to understand.

"Every day, I come to work, and I do my best to make your life a little easier. Often, that means making my life a little bit more miserable, but I do it anyway. I do it because I'm your partner, and that's what partners do. And yeah, I also do it because I love you," he acknowledged, trailing off. "And so, just for once, I wanted to do something for me; just for once, I _needed_ to do something I knew wouldn't make you happy..."

"I'm so sorry..."

"Don't be. As much as it hurts, at least I know."

"No, you don't."

"Mare-"

"You're not going to ask me again, are you?"

"No," he said, the sadness in his voice just about breaking her heart.

"Okay," she replied, feeling numb, wondering what she was supposed to do now.

"Look, I need to get back to the office-"

"Okay," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady.

"But you can stay as long as you need to," he continued as he got up, depositing the now-empty cup into the sink. "Your stuff should be dry soon; I'm sure you'll be much happier wearing your own clothes."

"Uh-uh."

He hesitated briefly, obviously concerned. "I'll call you later. We can talk. Or... not talk. Whatever you need."

She knew he was trying to make amends because he felt guilty about not doing what she wanted. _Good god, Marshall... I make your life miserable yet once again, without so much as a word of explanation, and you're concerned about me? _

She wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault, that she understood why he didn't trust her, but all she managed was a monosyllabic "yeah..."

"We'll be fine, Mare," he said gently. "We just need some time."

"I know."

"You gonna be okay?"

"I'm in love with you," she blurted out, the words tumbling out before she even had a chance to think about it.

"Wh- What?"

"I'm in love with you," she repeated more slowly. Calmly. Without even a trace of doubt or uncertainty.

"You're-"

"Yeah. Completely, ass-backwards in love with you."

"I don't-"

"And I'm not just saying that because things have been weird between us – which they have been – but because... because I _am_ in love with you," she added, shrugging. Funny how easy it was to say it once it was out in the open...

"You're in love with me," he repeated, sounding shell-shocked.

"Yep," she confirmed. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"At this point, yeah, it is..." He trailed off, staring at her. "Are you sure?" he asked, the hope in his voice just about breaking her heart. She knew she'd given him plenty of reasons to doubt her; she'd have to make damned sure he never again had reason to... But first things first...

"Yes, I'm sure. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

He looked at her, obviously not convinced.

"I am in love with you, Marshall."

"You keep saying that," he said, sounding odd.

She cocked her head at him, wondering what was wrong.

"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself," he explained.

_Oh..._

"I don't need to be convinced. It may have taken me a long time to get to this point, but I know what I want. And I know what I don't want, which is to wake up in a couple of years only to realize I've lost you because I was too stubborn to admit how I really feel."

She paused, giving him a chance to respond, but he remained silent.

"I'm not going to change my mind, Marshall," she said, wondering if she was getting through to him. "I'm not going to run away," she added. "Not this time."

"All right," he finally said, nodding.

"All right," she repeated slowly. "That's it? No questions, no comments... Just... All right?"

"Give me a minute... I wasn't expecting this..."

"Did you really think I'd break your heart all over again?" she asked, saddened at the thought he might have.

"No. You may be a lot of things, but you're not intentionally cruel. You wouldn't hurt me like that on purpose. I just... I don't know what I expected, but this wasn't it..."

"Are you-" She paused, struggling to find the right words. "Do you still want this?"

_Do you still want me?_

He answered by quickly closing the gap between them and kissing her.

"I've _never_ stopped wanting this," he whispered before kissing her again. "I had just given up hope that you would ever want the same thing."

"I'm sorry-"

"No more apologizing," he begged, putting his hands up. "Coming from you, it's just... unnatural," he added, smirking.

"Jackass," she mumbled, secretly delighted to see Marshall's trademark snarkiness reasserting itself.

"Yep," he confirmed, quite pleased with himself.

"Marshall?" she asked, growing serious again.

"Yeah?"

"I need you to know that... Just because I _know_ I'm in love with you... Doesn't mean I won't screw things up somehow..."

"I fully expect I'll screw things up at times, too," he shrugged, seemingly unconcerned by the possibility.

"I'm serious. I know you; you're a forever kind of guy..." She paused briefly, not sure how to express her fears. "I don't know if I can promise you forever, Marshall," she said quietly, opting for the simple truth. "I want to; I really do. I just don't know if I can pull it off, and you really deserve someone who can give you that..."

"I'm not asking for forever, Mare; forever's hard, even when you're absolutely sure."

"But-"

"Besides, I don't want anyone else, regardless of how long you think you can – or cannot – promise me." He paused for a moment, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "How about we start with today and see how that goes?"

"Okay," she acquiesced, offering a silent prayer of thanks to whatever greater power had caused Marshall & her to cross paths all those years ago. "You're truly amazing, you know that?"

"Yes, I do know that," he quipped, beaming.

"Do you really have to go back to the office?" she whined, pulling him down for a kiss.

"Yeah," he said, reluctantly pulling away. "I should get going. Stan's waiting..."

"You sure? I was thinking you could... help me... get... changed..."

"You're not playing fair," he groaned, running his hand through his hair. "I told Stan you needed me for something, but that I'd be back in an hour or so."

"That leaves us with, what, about 20 minutes, right? I can work with that," she replied, tugging at his shirt.

"Nu-uh," he said, slapping away her wandering hands. "I've been waiting for this a long time, and I'm not settling for a quickie. When I finally get you into my bed, I'm not letting you go for at least a few hours."

"A few hours?" she asked, interest suddenly peaked.

"I've been practicing," he replied, laughing at her reaction.

"I don't really want to know what that means, do I?"

"Probably not," he agreed.

"All right," she said, getting up and heading for the hallway. "Your loss..." she shot back over her shoulder as she stripped off the t-shirt, flinging it at him.

Swearing softly under his breath, he fished his cell phone out of his pocket & hit speed dial. "Stan, it's Marshall. Slight change of plans. Can we reschedule that meeting?" He paused, listening to the older marshal as he made his way down the hall, shedding clothes as he went. "Yeah, Mary's fine. Something came up... Requires my immediate attention," he continued, stepping over the discarded sweatpants just outside his bedroom door. "Okay, we'll be there at nine. Thanks," he said, ending the connection and carelessly throwing the phone on the dresser.

"Changed your mind, did you?" she smirked, watching as he stripped off the rest of his clothes.

"No more talk," he commanded, climbing into bed. "Talk later."

"Later," she agreed, reaching for him.

"_Much_ later," he emphasized before claiming her lips.

Her last coherent thought was that forever might not be so scary after all, so long as she got to share it with Marshall...

~ ~ ~ The End ~ ~ ~


End file.
